A Faded Memory
by BelleAngeli
Summary: The story of an adult Sarah struggling to make her life all that she dreamed it could be in the aftermath of Jareth's first visit. On the eve when her hopes are gone and she has at last given up, he pays her one more visit.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Labyrinth, Jareth, Sarah. Nor do I in any way resemble Jim Henson, The Jim Henson Company or Henson Creature Shop.

**Prologue:** Home is Where the Heart Is

_ I believe you would tell me, my child._

_ I believe you would let me know if there was anything wrong._

_ Remember, if you need anything..._

"I know, Dad, I'll call."

_ You promise, sweetheart?_

_ We just worry so much about you, Carin and I._

_ I love you, sweetheart._

"I know, Dad."

**He's making this much harder than it has to be.**

** Why is he doing this?**

** I just want to go.**

_Alright, sweetheart. Call us when you get settled._

"I will, Dad."

Somewhere, a door closed, but the girl could not be bothered to look back. What was there to look back to, after all? Her smile was only a faint one, just slightly pronounced against her features; the faintest curling of her lips upward. The boy standing by her car window barely noticed it as he waved, trying so hard to be a _growed up _and not cry in front of her. Today, she was leaving him.

She was always leaving him. First, to go away to college, to learn about places and people that he had not yet begun to fathom. And now, she was going further away still. He had thought, hoped, that after college she would be here to stay with him. The child was too young to understand the bitterness of his disappointment but the tingling, sick feeling it left behind was real enough. She was going away again. And try as he might to understand, he could only wonder why she had to go so far.

He was the last sight she remembered of that day. A tiny child standing on the curb in khaki shorts and a striped polo waving his farewell. He was spared a single glance as she pulled past before the scene was gone and reality blanketed her. Rows of houses turned to rows of trees which turned to open highways. Freedom. For the first time, she was going home.

_ Home._

_ Yes, home._

_ A word she had almost forgotten._

_ Home._

_ Where was home?_

_ Not here._

_ Not now._

"I ain't cryin'..." A balled fist rubbed at his eyes, swiping the tears away, before the child charged past his mother and into the house.

_Sarah. Come back. I miss you._

**A/N: This story will be undergoing some renovation. That is not a promise to continue and/or finish it. I was re-reading it, after I posted my last Author's Note, and recognized that my early writing needed some polishing. So, *sets the polish out on the table* that's what I'm doing. **


	2. Changing Seasons

Dreams of childhood fade quickly, too quickly sometimes, and we are left wondering if they were only mere fancies of our imaginations. So every adult has found it, or will find it eventually. And so Sarah found it. She sat alone within her apartment. It was a beautiful apartment, nicely decorated in the most modern decor. The carefully hung paintings, and neatly set tables and chairs, all part of who she was now, not who she'd meant to be, of course. Is anyone ever who they mean to be? There were plush rugs spread here and there, the affects, her little curios all gone from here, put away. Like her childhood. Well, almost all. There was that one room, her "special" place. She hadn't been able to afford any place to store all of her treasures when she'd at last moved out, just a year ago. And Carin had made it very clear that if she'd left them at her parent's home, her childhood memories would be gone when she at last returned.   
  
So, she'd decorated the room. That sounded ominious, even to her. "The Room". It sounded like something in a fairy tale that an evil king would use to torture some hapless prince out to save his princess. She wanted to laugh at that. Laughter didn't come easily these days, but then again, nothing really came easily these days. It was a pretty little room, turned, as much as any room in the highrise could be turned, towards the east, to catch the first rays of the rising sun in the morning. Little curtains edged the windows, of some soft white, filmy material that she'd come across. Chiffon perhaps. It was decorated, almost like a nursery, almost. The only thing lacking was a child to play in it. Shelves lined two walls, overflowing with mountains of stuffed animals, and figurines, books, and toys. Knicknacks of every nature. She'd come in here, sometimes, just to lay on the rug, and lightly stroke the soft material for hours on end.   
  
Sometimes she'd come with a book, and lay there reading in a dancing pool of sunlight. An old crystal lamp, the type with hanging shards of crystal sat on a shelf before the window, and at just the right time during the day, it would catch the sunlight, and send rainbows dancing across the room. She'd sit and watch it for hours, until the rainbows finally faded. Yet, it always left her heart light, and dancing with the beauty of it. Part of her wanted to get up, to dance with the rainbows, and twirl about. She had, once or twice, at first. Now, she simply sat there smiling at it all.   
  
Those were good moments, oh, there were always going to be good moments like that. She thrived on those moments, her few moments of undaunted peace, and quiet. Of course, there were also bad moments, almost as many as there were good. She got up, she went to work, she had her social life, and she came home. Came home to what? To an empty apartment, with empty hallways. She'd almost considered getting a cat, something to keep her company, but no. She could have, if she'd wanted to, but the thought of an animal demanding food constantly, and shedding all over her house. Oh, she'd learned all about cleanliness from Carin, who seemed to be a constant perfectionist about her surroundings.   
  
That was okay. She wasn't in her parents house anymore, so the clothes strewn over her bedroom floor hardly bothered her. The dishes piled in the sink, she didn't seem to mind at all. It wasn't as bad as it seemed, not all of it. She would spend whole days cleaning the house, opening curtains and windows, just so the fresh air would waft in. Fresh air? It was a city, there wasn't any fresh air. There were gaseous fumes, and odd putrid odors that permeated the air. Day or night, cars passed by, honking their horns, or speeding, as much as one can speed on a city street. But, she could imagine it was fresh air, at least. She remembered what that had smelled like. It had smelled sweet, full of the scent of flowers, and the warmth of the sun on her back, and face, as she looked up at the sky. Her green-grey eyes closed, just a moment, remembering that sensastion, and a faint smile touched her lips.   
  
There were so many better ways to look at it, so many. This way only seemed to bring her down more and more, as she glanced about the apartment, at last letting out an agitated sigh. So, her life wasn't picture perfect. No one's was. There were times, when she'd stood before the oil paintings at the musuem, and tried to compare her life to one. All those dark, drab little colors, swirled together. And then she'd come across a brigher painting, the type that lifted the spirit, and one couldn't help but walk away with a light feeling in one's heart. A face flashed through the mirror before her, forcing a smile to her lips, though it crept there slowly.   
  
"Alright, alright, he -is- handsome, and he -is- waiting. . .I'm going already . ."   
  
"He" was Chris Damien, a local up and coming lawyer. He had the good looks, he had the talent, and once, she almost believed, he'd had the dreamer in him too. It was something she could see in his eyes at times. Something in the way he smiled at her, and in the way he looked at her. It wasn't love at first sight, she'd stopped believing in that a long time ago, but there was something. Just a tiny spark there between them. She thought it was love, and all of her friends thought that he'd propose soon. Deep inside, Sarah hoped he would too.   
  
Once more a face shimmered before her, just momentarily replacing hers there, before it vanished once more. She hadn't quite caught a glimpse, and thought perhaps it was just her mind stirring the memories of Chris once more. His lips against hers, soft and sweet. His hand holding hers, their fingers entwined. That dreamy, almost starcrossed look sank over her features, as she let her chin come to rest on one hand a moment, thinking this over. Maybe tonight? He had said there was something very special tonight. Could this be it? That smile returned, almost as bright as ever, but for the cold fingers that crept up her spine. And there it was again, just a face in the mirror, shimmering before her.   
  
-Turn back, Sarah, turn back before it's too late.-   
  
Oh! Lifting her clenched fists to her eyes, she tried to drive the scene trying to emerge before her away, and half laughed at herself for it. She'd spent so long trying to forget that dream, and here it came again. Drawing the lefthand drawer of her dressing table open, she dug out the bottle there, pulling just one tiny white pill from its orangey depths, plunging it within her mouth, and swallowing quickly, before the doorbell rang twice. That was Chris. Grabbing her purse and jacket, she headed for the door, forgetting about the bottle that lay on the table before her mirror. It tipped over, spilling its contents, just one or two, here and there. She was smiling at him, as she pulled it open. Her dark hair pulled back from her fair face, accenting her eyes, though not hiding them.   
  
"Sorry I'm late, Sar-- Anyone ever told you you're beautiful?" The tall young man stood there smiling at her, before offering his arm. "So, I guess we'd better hurry."   
  
She could hardly help the blush that rose to her cheeks, as she pulled her jacket on without his help, and took his thin arm in her hand, pulling the door shut, and listening to the faint -click- of the lock behind her, before they went out for the night. 


	3. Dreams of Childhood

It was after two, when she finally came home again. The empty apartment waited for her, and she stood there for a moment, on the curb, after the taxi had driven away, looking up at the building. Her eyes shifted, for just the barest moment, gazing down the sidewalk to her right, where it lead off into the darkness. Somewhere, beyond her vision, the walkway ended. There was part of her, just a ghostly image in her own mind, that wanted to run away, taking that path that would lead her away from her apartments, away from what had just happened. In her mind, she could see herself doing just that, turning and running down that dark path, flinging her purse away from her, and all of her identity, to start all over.   
  
Her footsteps echoed softly up the stairwell, as she climbed to her twelfth floor apartment. The elevator had been taking too long, as usual, and it was just as well she walked. More time to think through it all. Had that been his big surprise? That he was going away, and wanted her to go with him? He was going to Washington, and wanted her to come with him, to practice law. And her? She was supposed to be a housewife, at least, that's what it sounded like. It was an odd image that passed through her mind, the picture of her pregnant, living in a tiny apartment somewhere, while her husband went to work everyday, staying late some nights. Most nights. Sarah's foot caught, and she stumbled, sliding halfway down a flight of steps, before she caught herself.   
  
"Oh, damn. . ."   
  
She turned, to sit down on the step, for just a moment, and rub her left thigh until the numbing pain went away, and her breath came normally once more. A glimpse of an image passed through her mind, that as she'd fallen, she'd seen someone standing above her, just on the landing, out of reach. But, no one had come to help her. She turned now, glancing up at that landing behind her. No one was there. Except for the dim light set up on the stairwell, the area was dark, and noiseless. No footsteps echoed up the stairs, and she half laughed at herself, gripping the railing with one hand and pulling herself up to stand there a moment. It was probably just a wish that Chris had been there to catch her, as she'd fallen down. Did she miss him that much already? Her fair cheeks flushed at the thought.   
  
-It's all in your head, Sarah. Jareth, the goblins, all of it. You just made it up, and got too into the stories. And Ludo, and Sir Didymus, they're all just part of your overractive imagination, aren't they, Sarah? Sarah, are you listening to me? Don't you see Sarah, it's for your own good. You're living too much in these dreams, just let them go.-   
  
Now that was a familiar voice. Dr Thomas. Hadn't he told her all of that, over and over again? He'd made her see that she'd been dreaming that night. There was no Goblin King. She'd fallen asleep on her bed, angry at her stepmother, and her father, for yelling at her, and dreamed the whole thing. Toby had been safe at home, and the Labyrinth was just a story in a book. It had taken all of five years, but at last she'd convinced herself, and agreed to let them put her on medication. She'd show them that she didn't need it anymore. She'd spent the last two years downing little white pills every day, at least twice a day, sometimes more. No more hallucinations. She didn't hear his voice in her head. She didn't see him in her dreams anymore. And her "imaginary" friends didn't come to visit her anymore. Sarah had a job at the museum, which she loved, working with young children's groups, and also working in other areas. And now, with Chris, her life was perfect. Well, almost.   
  
A sigh shuddered across her lips, before she started up the stairs once more, picking up the loose articals of her purse as she went. A tube of lipstick here. A tissue there. Her compact . . . laying on the landing. That's odd. At least, it seemed odd. Maybe it wasn't after all. She ran the scene through her mind; Her stumbling, her purse flying up as she tried to grip the railing, then falling, and sliding down those few steps. That was all. It must have flown from her purse up onto the landing. So why didn't she believe that? It was almost like the whole notion that her compact wasn't where it was supposed to be frightened her. Had she remembered to take her pills? A brief image flashed in her mind, she was putting that white pill between her lips. That seemed to answer her question. So why was she so frightened?   
  
"Oh, come on Sarah, no one just laid your compact on the landing and ran away."   
  
Of course not. It was foolish to even think so. Snatching the wayward compact up, she stuffed it down into her purse, and started up the stairs, finishing her climb to the door leading to the twelfth floor. The hallway was better lit than the stairway had been. And down at the end of it, two of her neighbors stood out in the hallway talking over something. Neither glanced up at her, as she pulled out her keys from one pocket, and fidgited with them, to get them into the lock. Now her hands were shaking. Anger flared deep within her. Why was she acting like such a foolish child?! She'd tripped, and fallen, and that was it. No one had been chasing her, and no one had been there stalking her up the stairs. At last the lock gave a begrudging "click" and the door swung open, letting her into the apartment as she turned the knob.   
  
The light on her answering machine was flashing. Who would have called while she was out? Chris maybe. He'd looked upset when she'd left, refusing to let him take her home. They'd fought, of course, about why she couldn't go with him, and why he should stay here. He'd been angry, screamed at her for asking him to give up a chance of a lifetime. So, she'd told him to take his chance, and she'd go home. He'd followed her out to the parking lot, after paying the bill, yelling and screaming the entire time that she was being completely unreasonable, and couldn't she at least think it over? There wasn't anything to think over, as far as she'd been concerned. He wanted to go to Washington, and she wanted to stay here. It was a blow, almost like a slap in the face, to realize that she didn't love him.   
  
That was it. She was just angry with Chris. That was what was causing all of these feelings. After she'd had some sleep, and thought through it, everything was going to be just as it had before. Maybe she'd even calll Chris and tell him she was sorry. She hit the rewind button on her machine, and then waited a moment, before the tape stopped and began to play. Chris' voice rang out in it's soft tones, and he sounded almost heartbroken as he spoke. Did it really hurt him that much, to say what he was saying? She sighed softly, letting his voice echo through the apartment, as she went into her room, and started changing clothes.   
  
"Sarah, it's Chris. Look, I'm sorry about yelling. But, I was thinking after you left. . .maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore. . . It would probably be best, since I'm going to go ahead and leave next week. . .anyway, bye."   
  
The feet of the chair at her vanity seemed to drag heavily across the carpet, before she plopped down in it, looking at herself in the large mirror. Well, so much for calling and apologizing. With a heavy sigh, she pulled out a comb, and began to brush out her long, dark hair. She hadn't changed much, over the years, from teenager to adult. She'd always been pretty. Awkward, but pretty just the same. Her skin was a bit more fair, perhaps, and it made her hair seem darker about her face, even brought out the green-grey of her eyes. A ripple across the surface of the mirror, seemed to break the scene before her, for just a moment, and her heart stilled. It was only in her own eyes, as two tiny tear drops fell from her lashes, and trailed their way down her cheeks.   
  
Just a touch of surprise crossed her features, at her tears, at the sorrow she felt. Almost as if, she'd lost something, and couldn't quite explain what it was. There was a hole in her chest, like a gaping, bleeding wound, though she couldn't quite find it for looking. And no amount of soothing would push the pain away. One hand lifted, to brush the tears away, and Sarah found herself staring into the crystalline depths of the mirror. Once, she'd believed that something lay beyond that mirror, like Alice and the looking glass. Now, it was just her own room. Her own bed. Her own curtains. Her eyes closed once more, just for a moment. 


	4. Shattered Mirrors

It felt like she'd been sitting there for hours, when her eyes slid open once more. So unreal, just like a dream, everything that had happened so far tonight. One moment, she'd been completely happy with Chris, and then it was all gone, shattered by her own foolish pride. If only she'd said yes, instead of no. But, that hadn't been what she'd really wanted, had it? Clasping her hands before her, she rested her chin on them, staring deep within the mirror once more, watching her reflection. She barely noticed the illumination in the window, and then how it faded. Just a car passing on the street, that happened a lot here. She barely noticed the way the soft breeze pushed back her curtains from the window sill. None of that seemed to matter just now.   
  
"What does matter, Sarah?"   
  
A surge of fright worked its way through her, at the sound of someone speaking. Her head turned slowly, to find the speaker, eyes searching the dark shadows. There was no one. The voice echoed in her mind once more, and she listened to it over her own soft breaths, and the blood that seemed to pound in her ears. It was her own voice. How changed it had sounded. . .almost, sad, and sorrowful. Her eyes flickered to the mirror once more, and she looked deep within it. There was nothing to be sad about. So, Chris had decided to leave her. She'd known he would eventually. He had a career, elsewhere, and he had to follow it. Silently, she wished him good luck with his dreams. Oh, somewhere down the line, she'd hear about him, how he'd won some big court case. And secretly, she'd smile inside, and congratulate him. That was what mattered. He was going to be happy. And so was she.   
  
"Oh, enough already."   
  
She pushed up out of the chair, and snatched her book from where it lay on the night table, moving into the guestroom, where she kept her dolls and toys. The Room. Soft, pale moonlight shone down onto the carpeted floor, illuminating the room in a pale sheen of light. A flick of the lightswitch changed that, and she was sitting on the carpet before the window once more. A hardbound book lay open on the floor before her, and she bent close to read it, eyes scanning the page in silence. Nearly a chapter went by, before she sat up, rubbing her eyes wearily. Well, no use pining over it anymore. With a sigh, she let the book fall closed, and pushed herself upwards, heading back into her bedroom. It was dark there, no moonlight streaming through the windows.   
  
Only a very dull light penetrated the gloom of her room, as she sat quietly at the vanity once more, reaching for where she'd laid her pills, before leaving that evening. Her small hand closed on air, and air alone. They'd gotten moved perhaps? While she was rushing out the door? Sarah rose from her seat, and flipped the light switch, illuminating the room in the soft glow of a lightbulb. It wasn't the same, she mused, the light of a lightbulb, verses the light of the sun, or the moon. There was something more alive, more brillant about the light that poured from the sky. Lamplight was a dull companion to the brillant sun, and she sighed softly at it, turning back to her dressing table, to search for the bottle of pills she'd laid there. Yet, they weren't there. Sitting once more, on the worn coverlet of the chair, she peered into the mirror, trying to force the memories to come to her. Where had she laid that bottle down? In the bathroom?   
  
The light in the bathroom came on easily beneath her soft touch, a row of vanity lights illuminating the room in bright light, though still dull in comparison to the sun, she mused once more. They weren't here either, not laying on the counter near the sink. She hadn't had time to come in here, had she? No. She distinctly remembered grabbing her purse, and jacket, laying the bottle down on the vanity. Had it gotten knocked down somewhere? Perhaps rolled behind the vanity, and spilled it's contents? Oh, damn. It could wait until morning, couldn't it? No, of course not. She'd have to get up and get ready for work, and if she slept in by mistake, then there just wouldn't be any time to find the pills. Moving to the vanity, she strained a moment, dragging the heavy piece of furniture away from the wall, then scooting across the carpet to peer behind it. Nothing. Where had they gone?   
  
"Oh, damn. . .where are they? They couldn't have just disappeared. . . Think, Sarah, think."   
  
For a few moments, she just sat there, head in her hands, looking down at the plush carpet beneath her legs and feet. At last, pushing up, she grasped the handle of the upper lefthand drawer of the vanity, and drew it open, looking down within it's depths. There it was, nestled amongst the brushes, and other bottles. Neatly put away, as if it had never been moved. She could see the white pills through the transparent orange container. They were there, she didn't know if all of them were there, and she wasn't going to count them. It had just been a mistake. She had just hastily put them away, and forgotten all about it in her rush to get to the door. A sigh of relief swept over her, and she settled down into the chair once more, shaking her head slowly with a faint grin touching her lips. Why such a rush to get these pills? After all, didn't she plan to be off of them soon anyway?   
  
It was a simple question, with a simple answer. She had to take them, to get off of them. If she didn't take them, then she couldn't be just like everyone else. Did she really want to be like everyone else? Oh, life wasn't monotonous, like some people said. No, she enjoyed her life very much. The mueseum was wonderful, and though it wasn't her dream of acting, it was something she enjoyed very much. And Sarah was good at it. So she was happy with that. And all her childhood "friends" were gone now. She'd finally grown up and pushed them all away. And, like all imaginary friends, when she'd stopped believing in them, they'd gone away, and disappeared. They'd gone wherever it is that imaginary friends go when they've outlived their usefulness.   
  
Outlived their usefulness. What a horrible way to put it. Inside she felt like she'd killed a friend, and could almost hear the voices, ghostly and faint, in her mind screaming "You murdered us!!". A soft chuckle echoed through the room, and chill fingers ran down her spine once more. Her eyes roamed the mirror, looking for the source of the chuckle, but there was no one there. Just her. Her mind whirled over it, again and again. It was her chuckle. Just like it had been her voice. A faint smile touched her lips. It was funny, to think like that. They weren't real, so it couldn't hurt them. When they were gone, they were simply gone, and that was that. They didn't feel.   
  
A shimmer in the mirror attracted her attention once more, and she found herself staring deep within its shining surface. It was just a image, that shone there for a moment, dancing before her eyes. Like a dream, hazy, and hard to make out, though she sat back, watching as she slid the white pills between her lips, one by one, swallowing each as they went in, until the whole small handful, fifteen or more, were gone. It seemed so unreal. She couldn't feel herself moving, and didn't taste the bitter medication.   
  
-It is only a dream. I will wake up, and all will be well.-   
  
Her mind whispered this, over and over, convincing her that this was just another hallucination, brought on because she hadn't lately taken her pills. Yes, she'd need to take her pills when she woke up, that was all. So, she just watched, little by little, as the mirror continued to shimmer before her, throwing back light that's origin was unknown. It didn't seem like the overhead lights of her bedroom, or the outside streetlights. It was there, just a few minutes more, before it slowly began to fade away, dimming about her.   
  
-I am waking up. It must be morning.-   
  
That little voice inside her spoke slowly, reminding her of all she'd need to do before she went to work. Putting the dishes in the dishwasher, and making her bed. A chill crept up her spine, and she wrapped her arms about herself, the pill bottle falling from her hands. She felt fear in her dreams, as the shadows seemed to creep closer, and closer. And then the dream ended, with just a soft whisper in her mind . . .   
  
"Jareth. Where have you gone?" 


	5. A Waking Moment

There was sunlight streaming through her window, penetrating even the folds of the curtains that hung low over the pane of glass. Outside, cars rushed up and down the street, honking at each other, and screeching to a halt, as they avoided near collisions, missing the light as it turned red, or so very wrapped up in their own worlds, that they forgot anyone else existed. That was the way the world worked though, most people forgot about everyone else, and didn't see beyond their own small piece of reality.   
  
Sarah was sitting up in bed, leaning back against the headboad, and staring into the vanity mirror across from her. She'd had to call in sick this morning, much as she'd hated to. In her entire year working at the museum, she'd never called in sick before, so it had surprised them as much as it had surprised her. It had been a bad morning so far, waking up with a spliting headache, that threatened to gnaw right through her skull and shatter it into a thousand pieces. And then, to top that off, when she'd tried to rise from bed, she'd barely been able to stand a moment, before the world began to spin about her, tilting this way and that. So, she'd lain here, listening to the answering machine in the other room, as it picked up her calls. The first had been from her stepmother, Carin, to see how she was doing, and to remind her that her own birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and she'd promised to come home for it. Home.   
  
Where was home these days? It didn't seem like it was here, in this apartment, where she spent enough lonely hours to almost hate the place some days. And it didn't seem like it was with her stepmother and father. No. Home wasn't something she could quite put her finger on these days. It was more a feeling inside, that she wasn't home yet, almost there, but not quite. There was something missing, before anywhere could truly be called home, and until she found it, Sarah had the distinct feeling that she'd have to keep looking. Chris had made her feel at home, had made her feel loved, and wanted, something she hadn't felt in years, not since she was a child. With her parents divorce, and then her step mother, Sarah had never quite felt like she belonged in the family anymore. Yet. . .Chris had brought that back to her. It was gone though, Chris was gone.   
  
A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she brushed the dark hair back from her face, glancing about the rooom. It was just a faint glimmer, the reminded her of what she'd seen last night. How she'd been slowly taking those pills, one at a time, feeling how they numbed her to the core, as they slowly began to dissolve in her system. Her body had slowly begun to relax, and felt her mind slipping into the darkness. It was a peaceful feeling, but not one she'd longed for. Sarah's eyes closed a moment, and she sat there, listening to the silence of the room. Nothing. Not even the dripping of water from a sink in the house. It was just quiet, very still about her. More of her dream began to come to her slowly, just bits and pieces. Even her own voice echoed through her mind at last.   
  
-Jareth. Where have you gone?-   
  
Jareth. That was a name she had not used in a very long time. The Goblin King himself. He'd seemed so dashing, so handsome, and though she hadn't wanted to admit it, her very being sent to rebel against him because of his arrogance, he'd seemed very attractive. Perhaps it had been because she was young, and he was the first idea of an older man, beside her father and teachers, that she'd ever known. He was everything she'd ever wanted in a villain, and more. He'd also been prince charming at times, everything she saw and wanted in a man. He was firm, and cruel, but fair at the same time, though she hadn't wanted to admit it at the time. She'd been a child then.   
  
"Oh, Sarah, what are you saying? He's not real. . ."   
  
But she could no longer convince herself of that. He was as real to her as if he'd been standing right beside her the entire time, and she'd been only pretending he wasn't there. It was a memory, stretching out across the years to touch her mind with its chill fingers. A memory of the way things were, and the way things ought to have been. One where she stood at the head of a Labyrinth, staring out across it's winding paths, with him beside her. And through her youngish eyes, she could look up at him, for he was much taller then her, or so it had seemed then. He seemed to tower over her, and each word from his lips took her very breath away. He hadn't asked for anything in return, except her love. It was just an idle crush, that a fifteen year old girl had on the villain from her dreams.   
  
-Just fear me. Love me. . .do as I say, and I will be your slave. . .-   
  
The villain of her dreams. He'd given her the adventure of her dreams. He'd given her everything she'd ever wanted. Mysterious places, adventure, danger, and even friends. And she'd not seen it, not at all. Now, glancing back at the memory, she saw it. How he'd catered to her every whim, even swept her off her feet, like prince charming. Everything he'd promised her. . he'd done. And in the end, just as he'd promised, he'd let her go. There was something in his eyes, at the time, something in his face, as she watched him disappear, along with the labyrinth, and the escher room. Something that reminded her of disappointment. That wasn't like any villain she'd ever known. To just let her go like that. Surely those words hadn't had that much power over him. He was the Goblin King.   
  
-I've brought you a gift. . .It's a crystal, nothing more, but if you turn it this way, and look into it. . .it'll show you your dreams . . . -   
  
That wasn't to make the mistake, and say he wasn't cruel, or mean. He could kill, she had no doubt. He could scheme, and trick, and double cross until the world ended, and never once regret his actions. But for this one little girl, he'd offered her dreams, and she'd took, and took until he had nothing more to give. Nothing more to offer. And when he'd asked her for the only thing he wanted, she'd turned away from him, denying him something that was beyond his grasp. Oh, he'd been cruel, had taunted her through the labyrinth, making her angrier and angrier with each passing moment. Wasn't that what the villain was supposed to do? And he'd played the part so perfectly. She'd never doubted a moment that if there was evil afoot, he was behind it. Even when she'd returned home, anything bad that happened, she'd wondered if he was behind it.   
  
Her eyes flickered to the mirror, looking deep within it once more. It had been so long ago now, but she wondered where the time had gone. The years had passed, slowly at first, then faster and faster with each passing year, until she didn't have time to think of anything but her life. She'd long since buried any thoughts of the Labyrinth. Dr Thomas had made sure that she thought it was only a dream. All of it. She'd thought?   
  
"What kind of thought is that Sarah? It -was- a dream"   
  
She softly chided herself, shaking her head slightly at the notion. Thought. She -knew- it had been a dream. Just something to pass the time while she was babysitting Toby. Hadn't it? The image was there, in her mind. A tall, dark man, with blond hair tumbling about his shoulders in a cascade of sunlight. That odd little grin twisting his lips, as he looked through her with piercing blue eyes. A devilish gleam to those eyes, that said he would get what he wanted, no matter what it cost. A gleam that said not to anger him, for his wrath was great, and he was powerful. Yet, a look that said he'd give it all up. . .if she'd just be his. She could see him, dancing there before her eyes. A great weight depressed the edge of her bed, and soft leather brushed her face.   
  
"Sarah. . ." 


	6. Forget to Live

A/N: Some minor edits. Yes. You do detect that I've begun writing on this story again, after three years of writer's block. I hope to have the next chapter complete in a week or so. Wish me luck.

A tingling chill ran through her flesh at his touch, and she couldn't help the shiver that followed, running up along her spine, until she was quaking before him. Jareth. The goblin king himself sat at the edge of her bed, regarding her with a peculiar look. An ever present smile displaying rows of white teeth, but that smile chilled her in ways she could not imagine. More hallucinations? More dreams? Sarah squeezed her eyes tightly closed, and looked away from him. He wasn't there. This was all a dream. She had just fallen asleep while sitting in her bed, and now she was dreaming that Jareth was real. So, if she just sat here a while, then opened her eyes, he'd be gone and she could get back to her nice, peaceful life.  
"Sarah, why are you making that face?"

His odd lilting voice filled the room, for just a moment, before it became silent once more. She could feel the fingertips of the leather gloves he wore touching the underside of her chin, gently drawing it so that she faced him. Still, she shut her eyes tighter, almost scrunching them. He's not real. He's not sitting right here next to me. Inwardly, she whispered this over and over again. Outwardly, she scrunched her eyes tighter and tighter, until tears began to seep from the edges, and roll down her cheeks, trying to soothe the burning in her eyelids. He would be gone when she looked again, he had to be gone. He wasn't real, and things that weren't real couldn't sit on your bed, and stroke your face, and look at you the way he was looking at her.

"You're not real."

Her voice was just a soft whisper, and it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of it, then him. Her eyes opened at last, and she sat there watching him, tears running down her cheeks. He was real, he had to be, sitting there with her like he was, the tips of his gloved fingers just barely touching her chin. His head tilted, strands of wispy blond hair showering his shoulder as he did. A smile touched his lips, curving them upwards, until just a very little bit of his teeth showed. They were pointy in places, just like she'd remembered them. And that smile, it reached his eyes, causing the sapphire in them to dance, and shimmer, even though the sun didn't quite reach his face from here.

"If I'm not real, then how is it that I am here, touching you. . .If I'm not real, how could I do this?"

He leaned close, until she thought she would suffocate, and tried to get away. Her head met the wall, not too hard, as his hand on her chin prevented that. And though she tried to turn away, he drew her back, forcing her to look him in the eyes. He was going to kiss her, she could feel it. The way he leaned so close, his lips within inches of touching hers. His warm breaths caressing her face. But, he didn't. He simply let his hand drop away, and leaned back, regarding her thoughtfully. His smile had widened, almost to a grin now. He was enjoying this game immensely, tormenting her in this way. That odd sparkle lit his eyes once more, before he rose from the bed, standing over her.

What to do now? Leave her here, sitting in this room, in this apartment, looking into mirrors at all hours of the day, for a face that wasn't there. A face that hadn't been there in over half a dozen years. Oh, yes. It was his face she'd been searching for, all that time. He was sure of it. All that time he'd been gone, vanished only because she refused to believe that he'd ever existed. Damn the limitations of his own powers. If not for that, he'd have been able to claim her a long time before. He would have claimed her long before, and not left her to rot in this place. For that is what he considered it, rotting in this mortal world. A place where dreams died slowly, oppressed over time by the life these people led.

His eyes never left her, watching the girl made woman sitting in the bed before him. What had become of that little girl? So strong, so vibrant and full of life. True, the woman wasn't much different, if only she'd stop denying what she was to the world. If only she'd stand up, and laugh in their faces. He'd thought that was the type of person she was once. The type of person he'd wanted to make his own. He'd wanted to cage her soul, to preserve it in his own world, so that only he could see it. Even Jareth saw the error in this. This world had caged her soul, and slowly began to break her spirit. In time, everything she was would be nothing but an empty shell, passing through life. He moved from the bed, stopping at her dressing table, to lift the tiny orange bottle in his hands, looking over it. They caged the dreamer's soul with pills, and told the dreamer that he was crazy.

Eventually the dreamer began to believe them, and tried to do as they said. And when he was "cured" of his dreams, they pronounced him well once more. It was an involuntary reflex, that crushed the bottle in his hand, breaking the plastic, and spilling what few of the pills remained. There had been more yesterday, Sarah thought, as she watched them spill from between his fingers, to the shaggy carpet below. They lay there, like tiny little white stains. And he came toward her once more, almost stalking. Wasn't that why he'd let her go? To keep from caging the dreaming spirit that seemed to possess her? Love. What knew he of love, a Goblin King? He knew some, he'd admired her for her looks, her beauty. She would have made a good hostess at his parties. But could he ever have loved her?

Part of him ached, because she would die here. She would die an old, spiritless lady, laying in a hospital bed at some nursing home, in her own urine. His smile had faded, and now he could see that she was looking at him oddly, watching his face as if expecting something. So, at length, he sat down beside her once more, considering what to say. His words were carefully chosen, when they came. He didn't expect her to heartily agree, in fact, expected her to fully disagree, and even throw a fit of some sort. She'd have done so before, screaming "It's not fair!" or something of that nature. So, he spoke softly, haltingly. . .

"Sarah. . .you've banished me for. . .six years now. Why does it surprise you that I've finally broken free? Did you think they could keep you in their prison forever? That I wouldn't find some way out, and come to you again? No, no, silly child. I've been waiting for this moment. . .so long. And now it is come. You shall return with me to the castle, and live out your life there."

Her reproof was a few moments in coming, and the room had rather the air of the calm before the storm. She was staring oddly at him, as if he'd just told her that he'd given pigs wings, and turned the sky purple. Slowly, it came, and she started by shaking her head, and pushing the covers of the bed back, rising to her feet. Then staggering about the room, almost in some sort of odd version of pacing. And then she sat down at her dressing table, and just stared at him for a few moments, as if deciding what to say exactly. He hadn't made an offer, or a demand. He'd told her exactly what was going to happen. So what, precisely, was there for her to think about? At length, she spoke, in her soft, almost sullen tones.

"No. I'm not going anywhere with you. You're just some madman prancing around in tights. You're not real, don't you get that Jareth? Your world isn't real. I can't go there, if it's not real."

He'd been following her, this entire time, if only just with his eyes. Watching her pace back and forth, wondering what she was thinking about, and why she seemed to be trying to push everything off to a hallucination. He watched as she stooped down, and picked up one of her little white pills, holding it up before him. He'd read the label, and had some vague notion of what it did. He'd seen what it had done the night before, through the mirror. Had that been a dream, or had he really seen it?

"If I take this, you'll go away." 


	7. Dwell on Dreams

A/N: So. Four years later. Three chapter rewrites later. And one muse that finally wokeup. OMG! Is that an update? What horrors!?! Enjoy, please.

--

A barking laugh was her response. For only the space a few moments he had stood there, almost dumbfounded at her rebuff, at the triumphant way she held that pill aloft as though it were a shield against him. Oh, he could not help but laugh when the complete oddity of the situation hit him. A gloved hand lifted, covering both his eyes as though to mask the tears of laughter which were soon to follow such a declaration. _If I take this, you will go away._ Did she not understand? No, how could she? The years had impressed the will of those around her upon her soul and now she could only listen to what she had been told. He suspected the pills had some hand in that. Well, that situation would have to be rectified, immediately.

"No, Sarah. The pill cannot make me go away. I was always here, you see, lurking just out of sight, watching you, just waiting. The only thing that can make me go away, is you. And let's face it. . .you don't want me to leave."

He sat now, an abrupt movement, taking his place at the edge of her bed once more, watching as she stood faltering before him. Oh, her courage was drawing to her, of this there was no doubt. He could almost physically see her reach out and draw that aura in tight. What was that term the humans used? Yes, screw her courage to the sticking place. Where had that courage been last night, that unending spark? Last night he had seen her take those pills, more than a dozen he was certain. He had watched as she had lain down to sleep at last, her movements betraying that the pills had taken effect. A brief squint at the bottle had told him that she had taken too many. One or two, not eleven or twelve, the directions read. There had been a pain, somewhere in the region of his chest, once he had realized her intentions.

It seemed a dream now, whether or not she had actually intended it. Indeed, even she seemed not to recall the occurrences of the night before. He could detect no trace in her features of what had driven her to take those pills. Oh, he knew what it had been, and should the _boy _ever grace this doorstep while Jareth was in residence, he would find himself on the receiving end of some well chosen words. Perhaps even a run through the Labyrinth, should Jareth feel amused enough to do so. He was drifting though, having forgotten - not really - that the woman of his thoughts was standing only just before him, looking as though she had been slapped.

Sarah, for her part, had tried very hard to look indignant as he'd spoken. Of course the pill would make him go away, that was what the pills were for. It was to help her clear her mind of such things, to help her keep him from coming to her in dreams. He wasn't real. Not really. And yet. Her eyes drifted closed and for a moment she could smell him; a pleasant aroma, really, the smell of woods and open air. For a moment she considered going with him, considered throwing down her pills and taking his hand. Part of her wanted to tell him to take her with him. To the castle, away from this misery, away from what life had to offer her. Chris was gone, or would be soon. And she had already resolved in her mind that he was not coming back to her.

She could go with Jareth. Perhaps he would not love her, but he would take care of her, he would see to her every need, as he had before. Wait. A gentle shake of her head, dark curls sent bouncing away from her features. No, impossible. Jareth wasn't _real_. There was no castle and no labyrinth. No friends who had helped her escape the evil Goblin King, who had captured her brother Toby. None of that had ever happened. A moan of despair escaped her lips and she sat down, hard, missing the chair behind her and landing on the floor, which startled Jareth into almost moving. She was unhurt though and so he regained his composure, gazing regally down at her.

"I can't go with you Jareth. It's not real. And much as I'd like to go, much as I would love to give into a dream and simply run away, I can't. . .This is real. . "

Her hand grasped the carpet below her, grabbing fistfuls of it, holding fast to it as though it would keep her well in line, keep her rooted to this world. She would have to make an appointment to see her doctor. She would have to tell him about all of this, about what had happened and the hallucinations that had come to her. Tears welled up in those green-gray eyes, a hand lifting to rub at them as she fought the prickling, burning sensation that discomforted her. They would give her more pills, perhaps stronger pills, and she would have to keep taking them. Crazy. It made her feel crazy and all she wanted to feel was normal, and loved. Dry sobs wracked her throat a moment, her eyes burning more fiercely.

"I'm not crazy. . .I'm not crazy. . .oh god. . ."

Jareth sat silently watching, stoic as he considered his options, weighing them carefully. Oh, he could drag her away once more, take her back to the Labyrinth. What good would it do him? This creature was on the point of breaking. How could someone who had once been so full of life, once had the spark of innocence and goodness about her, have fallen so low? Especially in her own estimation. A gloved hand lifted at last, his body moving forward to kneel before her, letting his hand rest atop the crown of her head. What could he say to such a declaration? Oh, part of him wished to scoop her up in his arms, hide her away from the world.

It would do no good, of course. She would only become more desperate, more broken. In time, of course, she would become secure in his embrace, secure in all that he gave her. But what happened if she had to step out into the world again? No, this Sarah would never be prepared to face it all again after that. He wanted the old Sarah back, the one who had fought him tooth and nail for a brother she had been jealous of. Dreams die hard, even for Goblin Kings.

"No, Sarah. You're not crazy, you're just a bit confused at the moment. Let me help you. . .please. . ."

A note of desperation in that last word, something she had never heard in that voice. He actually wanted to help her. A hand scrubbed hard at her face, at her eyes, which lifted now to look into that pale face. He actually wanted to help her. And she could not deny him.

"Okay."


	8. Running Up That Hill

A/N: Chapter 8, at last. . I truly hope it doesn't disappoint. 

--

"Okay?"

Oh. Come now.

Really, he had been expecting more of a fight from her. Disbelief must have played strongly across those noble features by the way the corners of her mouth turned upwards. Had she really and truly acquiesced to his request so easily? A searing cold pool of dread began to form at the base of his stomach, stretching upward to grip at Jareth's lungs and eventually threatening to still his heart, or the very least, make it skip a beat or two. Sarah, _his_ Sarah, had never given into anything so easily. He was quite certain that not once, in the entirety of her life, had the woman done anything but fight tooth and nail for what she wanted. To give in so easily, to openly admit weakness or even that she had no idea which direction she was headed in; No, his Sarah would not have done that. It was hard to see her in the woman sitting before him. Sometimes if he tilted his head just the right way, Jareth could almost make out that tiny spark which had once been a raging fire of defiance.

Once upon a time, Sarah's defiance had gotten her into a tough situation and landed him in one that wasn't much better. It was a sore subject between them, at least on his part. That single word, not spoken out of any sort of malice or defiance broke him. Hard to believe really, that anything could break the ever stoic Goblin King. And yet, there it was. In a single word, in a single omission, Sarah had once again shattered his entire world. He had expected hot angry tears; had prepared himself for heated arguments and denials, before she at last gave in and accepted the help he would force upon her.

Not this. He had expected anything, but this. Somehow, this was ten times worse than any sort of pain he had imagined; real or otherwise. And yet, the desperate tone in his voice had not been a lie. He _did_ want to help her. He would help her. There was no doubt in that thought, not a single crack in his determination. After all, once a Goblin King gave his word, there was no going back on it. At last, after what seemed like an eternity to both occupants of the room, Jareth nodded, slowly.

"Okay. Well, then. . ."

Truly, Sarah had expected him to laugh at her, to tell her that it wouldn't be that easy. And a greater part of her expected him to have been bluffing. After all, Jareth was not very well known for his compassion, at least as far as she could recall. Here he was, though, almost speechless at her admission. She needed help. Chris had left a hole in her with last night's actions. Though, if she were to be honest with herself, he had really only been acting as a plug for a hole that had never really closed. She had always felt as though there were something missing; Something had been left out of her make up. Somehow, with Jareth here, that void inside of her had begun to slowly lessen and for a moment, only one, Sarah could once again imagine that dragons were real, fairies were sweet and nice, and a knight in shining armor would come save her.

Alright, so, when she had pictured said knight, it hadn't exactly been with bleach blond hair and mismatched eyes, but, well, one took what one could. An involuntary smile touched her lips at this thought. Jareth was hardly what one would consider good material for saving a damsel in distress. Oh well. And at this, her thoughtful reverie ended. No more than a few moments having passed since the man in question had spoken.

"So, uhm. . .Jareth. . ."

A hand lifted, rubbing lightly at the back of her head, mussing her hair as she considered what to say next. Silence had settled between them, and she, for one, found it highly uncomfortable. Her hand came down, bracing against the floor and slowly she pushed herself up, watching as Jareth leaned back, rising easily with her. A gentle laugh escaped her lips, as she knew finally what she would say to him.

"Your options for dinner are take out, cold pizza or a sandwich."

He was puzzled. Most people would not have noticed, of course, as the mask stayed in place. It was not the cold, indifferent mask that she had come to know before. No, this one was different, regal somehow. The desperation and pleading had gone out of his eyes in an instant. Now there remained only neutrality, a certain amount of amusement and that puzzlement. It was the eyebrow that gave him away. As soon as the words had left her lips, that single eyebrow had shot skyward into the light drape of his hair, remaining there a few seconds, before lowering once more. It was her turn to smile once more, though that smile was almost a smirk as she took in that expression. Well. Fancy that. After all this time, she had managed to get one up on the Goblin King himself.

"I think, Sarah, a sandwich will be. . .just fine."

There was a nod to indicate her acceptance of this, and then she had simply left him. Quiet steps took her through the apartment to her kitchen, lights flipped on, condiments gathered for the sandwiches. He would follow her, of course. She expected no less. Her mind was occupied otherwise now. Food, it was the best she had had to offer him. After all, she had been the one to open herself up to his help, and that meant she would have to shelter him, at least for a while. Somehow, Sarah doubted that Jareth kept an apartment in the city for a weekend retreat. That, however, was not the most troubling thought at the moment.

No, the most troubling was how easily she accepted this situation. Jareth. Wasn't. Real. Every fiber of her brain told her this; screamed it so loudly that she heard an irritating pulsing sort of ringing in her ears. It almost reminded her of that panic attack she had had several years ago, just no black spots, no shortness of breath. Just acceptance. Her brain told her that it wasn't real, yes, but for it's part, the rest of her said otherwise. A long disused imagination sparked to life, bringing forth all sorts of sudden images of places she thought had been only dreams. And her heart. . .well, if it were possible to leap from her chest, the organ would have managed by no, no doubt of that.

Sarah felt, for the first time in years, as though she had come home. And home, at the moment, was a pair of mismatched eyes gazing at her from the doorway of the kitchen. The next few days were going to be interesting, at the absolute least and terrifying at the absolute worst. After all, what does one do with a Goblin King? Shopping? Bowling? Somehow, she highly doubted that Jareth would be the type. And what of his brand of help? She highly doubted any heartfelt talks were on the way.

It might sound as though just like that, Jareth had healed any and all hurts in her soul. It might even, for a moment, feel that way, but deep down she knew that it was only a brief interlude. The night always comes crashing back down when it is least expected. This moment would be no exception to that rule. In the meantime, for a little while at least, Sarah intended to enjoy it.

"I hope you like mayonnaise on your sandwich."

Sarah smiled at the occupant of the doorway and for a moment, Jareth thought his heart might break all over again. It was going to be a long couple of days, weeks. . .whatever it was, it was going to be long. He would have to begin all over again. It would take time to rebuild walls that had been crushed and bridges that had been burned, but that was something he was good at; doing the impossible. Shame really, that reality had to come crashing back so quickly. He hadn't even had time to reply when the knock resounded on the apartment door. He barely had time to think as Sarah brushed past him to answer it. That scent, the one that was uniquely hers, wafting past him.

Knock, knock. Who would come knocking at this time of morning? Even the ever self-assured Jareth found himself holding his breath.


End file.
